


FE3H AU Vignettes

by EcoWrites



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Protectiveness, Religious Guilt, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EcoWrites/pseuds/EcoWrites
Summary: Series of AU one-shots based on Fire Emblem: Three Houses pairings. Will cover a range of themes and ships. Tags will update with new chapters. All are meant to be one-shots unless I feel like expanding them, or in response to popularity.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, My Unit | Byleth/Rhea, Petra Macneary/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Rhea/F!Byleth in corporate AU. CEO Rhea would like nothing more than to forget her birthday. Well-wishes, cards, and presents only remind her that she's a year older and still alone. This year, fate brings into her life a pair of abyssal blue eyes and voice like honey.

Blue dawn crept around the curtains of Rhea’s bedroom window. She was awake again before 5:30, another headache behind her eyes. Even so early, there was no point trying to go back to sleep. She was _up_ , and her mind wouldn’t quiet down before she had to be out of bed. Just for a moment she wondered if she should’ve heeded Cyril’s urging to take the day off. The young man should’ve been a therapist with how he made everyone’s wellbeing his business. But a day off for Rhea meant a day sitting inside wondering what to do with herself. Besides, the new assistant started today, and nothing said _respectable boss_ like missing introductions for personal days. She just wished the headache would subside by then.

At 5:59 she swung her legs from the warmth of the covers and shivered. For late November it was frigid; she peered around the curtain and saw frost. Maybe the exceptional cold was worse twenty stories off the ground, but Rhea couldn’t help but worry that she felt each winter deeper. She sighed and went to the kitchen to start the coffee – the first step of the first morning of her fortieth year.

\----

Cyril was loitering by the elevator when Rhea stepped out. “Miss Bishop! Good morning. Our newest teammate is already here. Mr. Essar is showing her around.”

“Good.” She paused by the assistant’s desk. “Did no one clean this mess up for her?”

“Er – no one wanted to lose anything important,” Cyril said. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s not left alone with it.”

“I don’t want her to be completely overwhelmed.”

“Of course not. Are you all right? You look harried.”

“Already? I’m in for a long day, then.”

Cyril laughed. “Just making sure there’s nothing I can do for you. I’ll call you when Byleth and Mr. Essar come back. Oh – and a very happy birthday to you.”

“Thank you, Cyril.”

Rhea reached the safety of her office and hung up her coat and scarf. A simple happy birthday from Cyril was a relief after last year’s surprise decorations. There wasn’t a balloon in sight, but there was a simple red envelope on her mousepad, and she knew who it was from before even reading the card.

_Know you hate surprises, so I’ll just tell you – there’s a bottle of Laphroaig 21-yr waiting for you at my place. Happy to share if it makes it feel less like a present. Dinner Saturday?_

_-Cass_

Fondness loosened the tension that had nibbled at her since waking up. Catherine knew how to do birthdays right: no mention of them at all.

Rhea had just opened her email to review daily sales reports when Hanneman Essar’s professorial voice carried down the hall. Her phone beeped. Cyril was calling.

“Miss Bishop? Byleth is here.”

“I hear Hanneman. Please show Byleth in. I’m anxious to meet her.”

“Right away.”

Rhea hung up, stood, and smoothed her dress. _Anxious_ was the wrong word. Cyril took it, of course, to mean Rhea was excited to meet Byleth. In truth she was eager to get it over with. She was more than efficient enough to do her job without an assistant in her way. After introductions she would leave the position in service to the rest of the executive team. No one stayed in it for long anyway.

Cyril opened the office door and led in a young woman with wide blue eyes and hair of nearly the same hue. She wore all blue and gray except for her blouse’s striking white collar.

“Byleth, this is Rhea Bishop, our CEO,” Cyril announced. “Miss Bishop – Byleth Eisner.”

“How do you do, Byleth?” Rhea shook the girl’s hand. “Welcome to Seiros Technologies.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, please, ‘Rhea’ is fine.” It was as much a plea to Byleth as to Cyril – again.

“I’ll remember,” Byleth said solemnly.

“I understand you got the tour of the floor from our CFO already.”

“Yes. And the finance offices, and the cafeteria and reception area, though I saw those on my interview day. Is there something you’d like me to start on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t pass much off to assistants,” Rhea said. “You’ll be working closer with other members of my team. Have you met Manuela and Seteth?”

“Yes. Director of marketing and executive vice president, respectively.” Byleth’s voice was soft and low. Her careful enunciation sent a pleasant sensation down Rhea’s neck.

Rhea cleared her throat. “Well. I must excuse myself for now. We’ll talk later, Byleth, I’m sure. Good luck on your first day. I trust you’ll find plenty to jump into.”

“Thank you, Rhea. It was good to meet you.”

“See you around, Miss Bishop,” Cyril said.

Before the door shut, Rhea heard Byleth reply, “She said she prefers her first name.”

\----

It was almost 5:30 before Rhea returned to her office after an afternoon of meetings. The others were gone for the day. Enjoying the silence, she slipped her laptop in its bag and pulled on her scarf and coat. On her way out she paused by the assistant’s desk. The mess of papers and folders was gone. So was the desk mat calendar, candy dish of paper clips, and stack of document trays. Byleth had conquered the perpetual eyesore in a day. Where she’d put it all, Rhea wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but the girl was a welcome change from her predecessor. Specifically, her lovely voice and stormy blue eyes.

Rhea stepped back from the desk. _What am I thinking?_ Byleth was pretty, yes, but also an employee and young enough to be Rhea’s little sister. How Catherine would laugh if she knew.

_“You’re lonely, Ree. Go out and get some before you start yourself a scandal.”_

Easy for brash Catherine to say.

Rhea shook her head and stalked to the elevator. _Grow up._ She’d treat herself to a nice sushi dinner to get her head back on straight. And saké.

Lots of saké.


	2. The Dangers of Walking Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta/Petra in college AU: Bernie runs into trouble on a walk back to campus. An unexpected protector and her loyal roommate Petra come to her rescue.

Bernadetta Varley was lost. She stood at the intersection of Pine Street and 12th, which her GPS insisted was the fastest route back to campus. It wasn’t the way she’d come on the bus.

_Stupid work-study. Why does the stupid office have to be so far away? Why does the stupid bus stop running at 9:00?_

What stupid impulse made her think walking back was a good plan?

That’s what she got for spending half the fall in her room while everyone else went out and explored. Now she blindly followed directions through a maze of street, alleys, and duplexes that stretched in all directions into the night.

Bernie shivered. The western Pennsylvania autumn was already cold. Her sneakers squelched on mats of leaves slick with rain. She turned on Water Street and again on 11th, following the red path on her phone screen. Her pulse jumped when she heard music and voices rising from the buildings ahead; she would have to cross through the bright half-mile of bars, shops, and hookah dens packed with their Friday night crowds. She reached the shadow lining the intersection of Market Street. The crossing signal was blinking red and counting down from twenty.

_Come on, Bernie. You can do this. Come on, Bernie..._

Boys loitered on both sidewalks. Two girls sauntered across the road, heels clicking on the pavement. She wouldn’t get a chance to cross unnoticed. Bernie clutched her bag to her chest and dashed into the street with five seconds left on the signal. One of the girls cursed at her as their shoulders collided. Bernie shrieked an apology and kept running past the line of fenders waiting for the green light. The last car beeped at her. She kept her head down and barreled past the group of boys at the corner bar. Whether they were laughing at her, she didn’t know.

She didn’t stop until the sounds of the street faded behind her. Her phone told her she was still on the right route, but there were houses ahead with figures under dim porch lights. Sheltered from the wind, the trees here held on to most of their gold and crimson leaves. They blotted out the street lamps, leaving the road in dripping darkness. No way would she walk past the muttering parties when she could barely see her own feet. Taking Church Street to the left she continued to 10th Street. The GPS rerouted. Now it wanted her to walk two more blocks east before taking 8th south to campus. It would take her between the student store and the Charles Street gauntlet of apartments and frat houses.

_This is bad. Bad bad bad..._ She thought of turning back to her original route. It would let her cut across campus instead of skirting it. But those porches with their smoky hosts came right up to the sidewalks, and she’d still have to cross another busy avenue into the gloomy park behind Alumni Hall.

Her phone jumped in her hand. Petra texted her.

{You are well, Bernie? I was expecting you to be coming home by now. I was thinking we could be going to eat together.}

Between the cold and her nerves, Bernie struggled to type. {Trying to get back. People everywhere. Scared.}

In seconds, Petra called. Bernie answered with shaking hands.

“You are seeing danger?” Petra asked.

“N-no,” Bernie replied. “But I can’t find a safe way home.”

“Where are you now?”

“10th and Church. There are parties everywhere and it’s getting cold.”

“I will check the Google maps.” There was a pause and the patter of keys as Petra consulted her laptop.

Bernie moaned. She’d probably interrupted her roommate’s homework. “I’m so stupid,” she mumbled. “Thinking I’d walk back. Good idea, Bernie. Way to go.”

“That is unfriendly talking,” Petra said. “It is not being full of help. Aha. 10th Street and Church Street. I am seeing. Stay there, and I will be coming to walk with you.”

“Are you sure? I’m sorry...”

“I am insistent. Do not be thinking of strangers and their parties. Be thinking of warm pizza and the Game of Thrones here with me. I will be seeing you soon.”

“Bye.” Bernie hung up and stood back against the stop sign post. What an awkward spot to wait. She wished for a bench or even a dry retaining wall to sit on to look less out of place.

A car turned onto Church Street two roads down. It paused at one crossroads, then the next, then rolled up to the curb where she stood. Bernie held her breath. The window rolled down.

“Hey, cutie,” said the boy in the passenger seat. “Need a lift?”

“N-no thanks. I’m – waiting. For someone.”

“You’re all wet, though. Where’re you going?”

“Home.”

“On Friday night? Boo,” said the driver – another boy with a curly blond fringe. “We’re going to a party down on Wayne. Why don’t you come? It’ll be sick.”

“Um. No thanks.” She took a step back from the curb.

“Come on,” urged the first boy. “What, you waiting for your boyfriend?”

“No.” _Stupid!_ That would’ve been the best excuse. “I’m waiting for my – girlfriend! – Yeah...”

“She can come too! Where’s she at? We’ll wait.”

“Um... I’m gonna go now!” Heart in her throat, Bernie turned and retreated down 10th Street.

“Where you going? Come on, don’t be like that.” The boys turned their car down the road and followed at a crawl beside her.

“Stay away from me!” She fumbled for her phone and broke into a run. The car easily kept pace, and the driver started beeping the horn.

“Come back!” His friend leaned out the window. “What’s your name?”

She tried to spin and run back the way she came, but her feet slid on wet leaves, and she fell with a splat. The boys roared with laughter. Tears sprang to Bernie’s eyes. She scrambled up and froze again in horror when a new voice barked, “Get off my street!”

Out of the darkness of the nearest lawn stalked a boy with black hair in a bun and a scowl on his face.

“I’m sorry!” Bernie cried. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Not you.” The boy stormed past her to the curb. “Were you following her?”

“Chill, bro. Just having fun.”

“I’m not your bro.” He turned to Bernie. “Do you know them?”

Bernie shook her head.

“Look at her. She’s fucking terrified. Get the hell off my street before I kick the shit out of you and your trash car.”

“You touch my car and you’re dead,” the driver threatened.

“Yeah?” The boy slapped the hood.

Later, Bernie couldn’t say why she didn’t use the distraction to call the police. Instead, in that moment her only thought was to capture evidence. She filmed the car’s license plate and trained her camera on the standoff. The boy who’d interfered was daring the driver to make good on his threat to fight.

“Get out here and show me what a big man you are, chasing girls in the dark. Probably the only way you can get them to look at you.” He noticed Bernie filming and beckoned to her. “Come here – get these clowns’ faces.”

The driver whipped his head around, saw Bernie with her phone held out like a cross to a demon, and cursed. He threw the car in gear and sped off in a spray of foliage.

“Are you all right?”

Bernie watched the boy through her camera, speechless.

“You can stop recording me now.”

With a shaking finger she pressed the little red square and lowered the phone.

“Give me a sign that you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” Bernie squeaked.

“I guess that’s a yes. Do you live nearby?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Can you call anybody for a ride?”

“I was waiting for my friend. S-she’ll be here any minute.”

“I’ll stay out here until she shows in case those shitheads come back.” He leaned against a telephone pole. “I’m Felix.”

“Bernadetta.”

“You in school here too?”

She nodded.

“Figured. Only reason anyone with sense would live here.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather coat. “You smoke?”

“No.”

He shrugged and lit one. “Don’t talk much, do you?”

She could think of nothing to say. The adrenaline had gone, leaving her hollow and spent. She tried to text Petra again, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Crying in front of this stranger was humiliating, but she couldn’t hold it in. “I’m sorry you had to get in a fight for me.”

“Not your fault. And I didn’t have to fight anyone.”

“I tried walking back to campus from work,” she cried. “It was stupid and could’ve gotten you hurt, and my friend’s walking here because I was too scared to go past the parties down there and I –”

“Whoa. Slow down.”

“– I messed up anyway and this is why everybody hates me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“Stop it! Jesus. It’s not your fault some creeps drove by.”

“Bernie!”

Petra’s shout made Bernie’s heart leap. She was running up 10th Street, braid flying out behind her like a vision from a fantasy.

“That your friend?” Felix asked.

Bernie didn’t answer. She ran to Petra and let the taller girl catch her in a hug.

“Who is that? You! You will be leaving Bernie alone now!”

“Easy, mama bear.” Felix held up his hands. “I was waiting with her until you showed up.”

“It’s not him,” Bernie blubbered. “These guys in a car followed me. They wanted me to go to their party and wanted you to come too and they wouldn’t leave me alone and I thought I was dead…”

“Slow yourself. I am being with you now. But who is he?”

“Felix. He saved me. It was terrifying.”

Petra’s expression softened. “You were helping her?”

“I heard them messing with her and came outside. They took off.”

“He was going to fight both of them,” Bernie squeaked. “To save me. I’m not worth that.”

“She took a video of their license plate, and I think she got their faces,” Felix said. “We should tell the cops. They might not be able to do anything, but they’ll have the report.”

“I will be calling them now. Thank you for protecting my Bernie, Felix.”

“Don’t mention it. Rain’s picking up. You can come in while you wait. My roommates are out.”

Bernie didn’t want to, but Petra’s hand on her back gave her confidence. They followed the glow of Felix’s cigarette up a crumbling walk to the awning over his front door. He led them into a living room with a sagging couch in front of a TV and a rusting home gym in the corner. Petra called the police while Felix went to the kitchen. Bernie didn’t want to intrude more by sitting, but her head swam with the heady smell of incense and the exhaustion from her panic. She felt like she might be sick.

Felix reappeared with a Coke. “Here. You’re pale as hell. Sit down and get your sugar up.”

Bernie took the can to the couch and drank deeply. When the nausea faded, she slumped with her head between her knees and tried to stop crying. She felt him watching her, probably wondering how she was such a mess while Petra stood brave and capable. Sometimes she still wondered why Petra bothered with her at all. She did nothing to deserve the stunning athlete’s care.

Petra finished on the phone. “The police will be getting here soon. They will be wanting to talk to all of us.”

“I’ll go out to the road and flag them down,” Felix said. “She looks like she needs some space.” He went out the front door. The screen slapped behind him.

Bernie felt Petra sit beside her. The gentle pressure of an arm over her shoulders only made the tears come faster. Petra tugged her close.

“There, Bernie. It is over. Breathe.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it is not.”

“If I wasn’t so careless it never would’ve happened.”

“Bernadetta. Look at my eyes.”

Bernie slowly raised her gaze.

“You were not being careless. It is not your fault those people were bothering you. Stop this unfriendly talking right now.” Petra tapped Bernie’s leg with a stern finger.

“I’m sorry…”

“Be not sorry. Be breathing. Be relaxing. We will be going home soon.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Through the curtains they saw flashing red and blue lights, then Felix came inside with an officer. Petra urged Bernie through a quavering account of the night. The officer took down their phone numbers and the car’s license plate from the video. All he could promise was that he’d find the owner and issue a warning.

“You can be doing no more?” Petra asked.

“That’s as much as I can do with this evidence. I’m sorry. Do you have a safe way back to campus?”

“They can go with me,” Felix offered. “If that’s okay with them.”

“Bernie?” Petra asked.

Arriving at the dorms in a police car would be more humiliating than Bernie could stand, but she hated to inconvenience Felix again. As if sensing her reluctance, he said, “I need to go for food anyway.”

Bernie nodded.

The ride to campus was quick and quiet. Bernie and Petra sat together in the back (the passenger floor was covered with a layer of empty takeout bags and kombucha bottles) and Felix’s music was a notch too loud for easy conversation. Bernie didn’t mind the band or the excuse not to talk. She rested her head on Petra’s shoulder. Felix looked at them in the mirror a few times but said nothing. He stopped at the curb outside their suites.

“You’re on your own from here.”

“I have much gratitude for you,” Petra said. “This world is needing more people like you.”

“I did what I could. No need to gush.”

“To gush?”

“Never mind.”

They traded phone numbers in case they needed to talk, then Petra got out and helped Bernie over the folded passenger seat with her bag.

Bernie looked back through the open window. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “For… everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Bernadetta. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He said goodnight and rolled up the window. Bernie stood back and watched his car glide down the road toward the student co-op. Petra took her hand.

“I had so much worry,” she murmured. “Come. Let us order a feast of pizza and watch the Game of Thrones. Or the anime, if you are preferring.”

They went back to their room together, then Petra returned to the lobby to wait for the food she ordered. Bernie stood in a hot shower until her skin was pink. It drove the lingering chill from her limbs. She dressed in her softest pajamas and nested on the couch until Petra came back with an armload of food. Pizza, breadsticks, and cinnamon twists filled the suite with comforting smells. They spread the feast on the table and settled in to catch up on Season 6. Bernie looked up at Petra as she accepted her first piece. She opened her mouth to speak, but there was too much to say to get it all out at once, so nothing came.

“You are thinking something?”

Bernie nodded.

“You can be telling me anything.”

“I’m just… I don’t know how to thank you enough for doing what you do for me. You didn’t have to run across town to find me. I couldn’t have done that for you.”

“I am not agreeing. If I were finding trouble I know you would be helping me.”

“I was too scared to leave the room until you started going everywhere with me. You never called me annoying or a freak. I just – You have all your swim team friends to hang out with, but you’re here. With me. It makes me – so – happy…” She stuttered on sobs again.

Petra gathered her in her arms and rocked her. “There is nowhere I am rather… Nowhere I rather am wishing… to be? I am not thinking that is correct.”

Bernie hiccupped a laugh. “I know what you mean.” She took a deep breath of the hibiscus scent that always clung to Petra’s hair. Never in her life had she been as lucky as when the gods of the housing system placed them together. She leaned back against her roommate as the urge to cry subsided. Tonight, there was nowhere else she would rather be either than here with good food, good stories, and the best friend a girl could want.


	3. Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out for a sunset run, thirty-and-thriving Hilda comes face to face with a ghost from her past. See endnotes for backstory dump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicide ideation.

Hilda’s lungs burned as she covered the last hundred meters of her course. Evening sun threw long shadows from scrubby brush and cacti framing the path like silent watchers cheering her on. The park atop the plateau was her own distant planet. Often deserted, it gave her a night a week to be alone with just the sand, her music, and the endless wind rushing over the cliff. With the first step onto the parking lot’s pavement she marked a narrow new personal best and jogged to the cliffside overlook to cool down.

The view from the overlook was a worthy reward for the sweaty work of fitness. It was a desert garden cultivated on a recess in the plateau and bordered by a loose mound of rocks. Steps of ancient railroad ties curved down from the level of the parking lot to the overlook. Hilda made her way down between the rock face on her left and the chain barrier on her right. Near the bottom she stopped short and tugged her earbuds out. Despite the empty parking lot, she was not alone. One stunted ponderosa pine clung to the cliff outside the overlook’s bounds, and in its shadow sat a girl, motionless and staring at the horizon. Though she might have fit the peaceful scene, the sight of her gave Hilda a frisson. Realizing just how close to the edge she sat, Hilda was suddenly afraid of startling her off balance. She scuffed her sneaker on the last railroad tie and stretched with a little groan. Still the girl didn’t turn. If anything, she shrank deeper into the ponderosa’s shade. Distant recognition prodded Hilda, and her neck prickled with wrongness just out of reach.

“Hey there,” she called out. “You’re living a little dangerously. I wouldn’t trust those rocks.”

Slowly the girl raised her head. Hilda thought absurdly of faces in horror movies twisting into spectral rictuses. Shaded eyes peered through a pale blue fringe, and in a flash, she placed the name. “Marianne? Marianne Edmund! It’s me – Hilda!”

Twelve years hadn’t changed Marianne. “You remember me,” she said, quiet as she’d been in high school.

“Of course. You look the same. How are you?”

“All right.”

Hilda couldn’t blame Marianne for her flat tone. They had no fond history. More than a few times, she and her friends had laughed at Marianne’s faith (really, who carried a Bible to school?) and her clothes, and her lassitude. But high school was ancient history. She held no ill will now. Marianne, though, was on her guard. Hilda smiled for her.

“I know the view’s great from there, but you’re at the edge of the world. You saw the sign about not climbing on the rocks, right?”

“I must have missed it.”

“Well, er… it’s there. It’s not safe where you’re sitting. Come on, I’ll help you back.”

Marianne gave a tiny shake of her head. “Don’t trouble yourself. You must have somewhere else to be.” She turned away.

“Actually, I’m already here. This is the end of my run. I like to watch the sunset and catch my breath.”

“Then maybe I’ll see you again,” Marianne said. “Another day.” She didn’t turn around.

Whether by instinct or some forgotten advice, fear nudged Hilda harder. The very air seemed to thicken with each step toward the rocks. She leaned on the weathered chain. “How are you getting home? My car’s the only one in the lot.”

“I’ll call someone.”

“Do you have enough someones to be sure you’ll get a ride? It’s a two-mile walk from here. Believe me, I did it once. Flat tire. No phone service. You have bars?”

“Hilda, if you don’t mind, I came here to be alone.”

Hilda gripped the chain tighter. “If _you_ don’t mind, I’d feel better leaving if you came back to solid ground.”

Marianne hung her head lower. “Of all the people to wander along, it had to be you.” Her voice turned cold. “Leave me alone. Why do you care where I sit?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Hilda wet her suddenly dry mouth.

“I doubt you care. Leave me alone.” Marianne drew her knees to her chin and buried her face in her arms, and Hilda sensed that she hadn’t just come here to be alone.

“Marianne. Please come off the rocks.”

Marianne ignored her. She clutched something to her chest, but Hilda couldn’t see what it was. She took a deep breath and ducked under the chain. “I’m coming out there. Don’t move.”

“No!” Now Marianne scrambled to her feet. The wind pulled at her cardigan, and she reminded Hilda of a frightened bird about to fly. “Don’t come any closer.”

Hilda stopped with one foot on a sandy boulder’s buried crown. She held up her hands.

“Walk away, Hilda. You never had a kind word for me. It’s too late to start now.”

“That was so long ago. We were kids; I said lots of shit I’m not proud of. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you!”

Marianne’s lip curled. “Bringing me to tears wasn’t bad to you?”

“It’s been years. I would never say those things now, and I’m so, so sorry. But we just ran into each other. Unless you’ve been dwelling on high-school me all this time, I’m not the reason you’re here. Are you in trouble? I can help.”

“You can’t help me.” She spoke so softly Hilda barely heard her. “I was never meant for this life.”

Never had Hilda felt so awful to be right, and she wished for all the world that she could call someone – anyone – for help. _Keep her talking. Say something, idiot!_ “Wait just a minute and think. What about your – it was your uncle who adopted you, right? What will he do without you?”

“Find peace again.”

“Peace? But he loves you!”

“He loves me, and it brings him nothing but pain.”

“Well, what about your church? You must have friends who care for you at... church?” The blackness that fell over Marianne’s face told Hilda she’d blundered. Only then did she see what Marianne held: a silver cross on a chain.

“Did I ever have friends, Hilda? I was born corrupted. Joy has always been out of my reach. People try to help me, but I spread my despair like a disease. And it kills.” Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I was a curse on my parents, and it didn’t stop with them. No one wants to know me. No one wants me in the house of God, and for good reason.” 

“Wait.” Hilda tasted sour panic. “You think nobody wants to know you, but that’s not true. I do.”

“You had a chance to know me. You used it to torment me.”

“I was stupid! I’m embarrassed by who I used to be.” She took a ginger step onto the loose rocks. Marianne tried to back away but had nowhere to go. The wind tugged Hilda’s pink ponytail over her shoulder. “The past is gone. I want to know you now.”

Marianne looked down at her silver cross, then to the void a step away. “Do you know how many times I wished for you to suffer like I did? If I step off, I’ll be in your nightmares forever. But even you don’t deserve that, and I can’t stop myself from caring.”

“You were always a better person than me. Isn’t – isn’t it Christian to care? Who says you don’t belong in the ‘house of God?’” She didn’t mean for it to sound like a sneer, but hot anger rose within her. “Did people really say that to you?”

“Yes. It’s the truth.”

Hilda did her best to put the anger aside. It wouldn’t help Marianne now. “What if it’s not? What if you’re just surrounded by the wrong people? Life looks different as your company changes.”

“Where would I start now? It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Hilda insisted. “Start with me!”

“You?” Marianne looked down again.

“Look at me,” Hilda pleaded. She was close enough to lunge and grab Marianne, but the force might carry them both over the edge. She eased herself over another rock and reached out. “Take my hand.”

Marianne pulled her cardigan tight around her shoulders and shut her eyes. “Who would befriend me? I live with my uncle. I don’t work. I don’t know how to talk to anyone. Surely not you. Why would you want to be seen with the likes of me?”

“What’s the likes of you? I don’t know what you see, but I see a kind girl with a long life ahead of her, and she needs to take my hand.”

“What will you do with me?”

“What’ll I do...with...?”

“I don’t want a hospital,” Marianne said. “Not again.”

“No, no. I – Whatever you want. We’ll… We’ll go out! You and me. Do you... like coffee? I know great cafes.” It was a pathetic offer, but it was the first thing she thought of that Marianne might enjoy. “Or I could just take you home. That’s fine too.”

“I can’t go home.” Marianne started to cry. “Not now!”

“Okay, okay. No pressure. Let’s go back to my place. We can talk there and decide what to do.”

“I made my choice already.”

“And then you met me again,” Hilda said. “You can make a new choice now. Come on. Take my hand.”

Marianne stared at her with something between suspicion and desperation. Then, slowly, she returned her cross necklace to her pocket. From her hands and knees she reached up with the most delicate fingers Hilda had ever grasped. She tripped on a rock shelf as she stood, and Hilda caught her. She was weightless.

“Easy, there. One step at a time. Here... Watch that one; it’s loose. And here.” The few paces felt like a hundred yards, but finally Hilda’s sneakers crunched on gravel. Marianne sank from her arms and curled on the ground in fits of shivers. Hilda too felt a chill from the sweat of fear gone clammy in the wind. She sat down just out of arm’s reach between Marianne and the precipice. Out of words, she waited in silence until Marianne’s sobs quieted and left only the chatter of birds flitting through the cacti. Hilda waited as the sun sank and the overlook lay in shadow.

“Marianne? It’s getting dark. We should go.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“What waits for me,” she replied. “Tonight. Tomorrow. I didn’t want any more future.”

“I don’t know what waits for me either.” Hilda crouched beside Marianne. “And it’s scary to take on the future alone. But look. We’ll face it together one step at a time.”

Marianne took a few shuddering breaths and got to her knees. Hilda helped her to her feet with gentle encouragement. Together they walked up the rough steps to the parking lot where the day’s last sunlight fell on their faces. The wind pushed back Marianne’s fringe and gave Hilda her first close look at her old classmate’s face. Somehow she’d always been too preoccupied to notice how pretty Marianne was, but there were shadows deep in those doe-brown eyes. Hilda hoped she could be a light for her now. She held the door of her little Celica for Marianne to climb in and hurried around to the driver’s side.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” Marianne said. “Do you have roommates? I won’t disrupt your life any more than I have already.”

“Nah, it’s just little ol’ me. My apartment’s small, but I don’t keep clutter. You’re not a burden. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Marianne’s eyes glistened again. “I don’t know what’s changed in you, but thank you...”

“You know, one thing in life leads to another. Before I knew it, I matured like a fine wine.”

“I’d like to know the story.”

“I’ll trade you mine for yours.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Got a decent idea. I think you need someone to listen, and that’s what I mean to do.” Hilda started the engine and pointed the car to the road back to the city. “I also think chocolate and milkshakes are in order. Ever been to Ghirardelli?”

“No…”

“Oh, girl, I’m gonna make your day.”

“You’re thinking about dessert? Treats are for celebrating, not – not _this._ ”

“You’re here because you had the guts to trust me and to carry on,” Hilda said. “You’re alive, and I can’t think of anything worthier of celebration.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory dump:
> 
> Hilda's wakeup call came soon after college when she tried seriously dating a girl for the first time. Suddenly she found herself on the receiving end of gossip and stigma from the crowd she called her friends. Her search for more supportive and accepting people led her to become kinder and more sympathetic to others. 
> 
> (I know Margrave Edmund is not Marianne's uncle. I took a liberty there.) Marianne's family didn't dismiss her struggle with depression, but they treated it like a shameful secret she was expected to keep. Her parents had their own problems with mental health, and with so few outside influences in her life, she blamed herself. She realized her attraction to girls as a teenager, but at 29 she has yet to tell a soul, afraid of the backlash she assumes is inevitable.


End file.
